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Falstaff in Rebellion 

Or 

The Mutineers of Eastcheap 
A Shakespearian Travesty in Three Acts 



By 
JOHN W. POSTGATE 



The professional stage rights in this play are reserved by the 
author, and all persons wishing to produce it publicly and for 
profit should apply for permission to the author in care of the 
publishers. Amateurs may produce it without permission. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
1915 



Falstaff in Rebellion 



CHARACTERS 



Sir John Falstaff. 

William Shakespeare. 

Ben Jonson. 

Sir Toby Belch. 

Robert Greene. 

Nym. 

Bardolph. 

Pistol. 

Captain Bobadil. 

Mercutio. 

Shylock. 

King Claudius. 

Hamlet's Ghost. 

Macbeth. 

Bottom. 



Polonius. 

Dogberry. 

Verges. 

Mark Antony, 

Othello. 

Francis. 

Ostlers. 

Malvolio. 

Mrs. Quickly. 

Lady Macbeth. 

Maria. 

Viola. 

Desdemona. 

Ophelia. 



SYNOPSIS 

Act I. Boar's Head Tavern. 

Act II. Shakespeare's Workshop. 

Act III. Courtyard of Boar's Head Tavern. 




Copyright, 191 5, by John W. Postgate 
As author and proprietor 



All rights reserved. 

FEB 17 1915 

©CI.D 30708 



Falstaff in Rebellion 



ACT I 

SCENE.— The Boar's Head Tavern. 

(Nym, Bardolph and Pistol discovered drinking at table, 
Francis serving them. They pledge each other in silence, 
and sigh heavily as they set down the cups.) 

Enter Mrs. Quickly. 

Mrs. Q. Thus it goes from morn to night ; nothing but 
groans and sighs and sack. And what a merry place it was 
before Sir John parted. They must be roused or they'll drink 
the cellar dry. Come, brave hearts, give sorrow words ! The 
grief that does not speak is bound to knock you all a-heap. 

Pistol. Ah ! 

Nym. Oh ! 

Bar. Ah ! those happy, happy days ! 

Pistol. So true, so kind, so valiant ! 

Nym. Slow to anger, yet quick to reward ! 

Bar. His heart too big for his body. 

Pistol. His hand in every purse. 

Nym. Ah ! that's the humor of it. 

Mrs. Q. He's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went there. 

Bar. Would I were with him wheresoever he is, whether in 
heaven or hell. 

Pistol. Bring more solace, Francis. (Fran, replenishes 
the cups. They drink in silence, sighing as they place them 
empty on the table. Door up stage opens and Sir John Fal- 
staff appears on threshold and looks on the scene.) But soft, 
lambkins ! Methinks I scent the outer air. 

(All turn toward door and spring up in fright.) 

Nym. Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! 
Bar. Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned ? 

3 



4 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Pistol. Bringst with thee airs from heaven or blasts from 
hell? 

Fal. (advancing}. Brave hearts, I am with ye once again ! 
{They all rush out in fear!) This is a wondrous strange wel- 
come. Am I the plague that they avoid me so ? But such is 
the state of man. One day the glad hand, the next the marble 
heart. My throat is as arid as a deviled bone. Francis ! 

Mrs. Q. (within). Go to it, good Francis ; be not afeard. 

Fal. Francis, I say ! 

Fran, (within). Anon, anon, sir. 

Fal. Confound thy parrot tongue ! Bring me a cup of 
sack. Stand not upon the order of coming, but come at once. 

Mrs. Q. (within). Sack ! It must have sack! Go, good 
Francis, go ! 

Enter Fran, with wine ; places cup on table, and retreats hur- 
riedly. Fal. takes a deep draught. 

Fal. Ah, you rogue, there's lime in this sack ! Is there no 
virtue extant in villainous man ? Shall I not get honest wine 
at mine inn ? Bring me a cup of sack, you rogue ; pure vintage, 
you had best ! 

Mrs. Q. (within). Oh, run, good Francis, run I Fill full 
from the other barrel. Would that the cock would crow ! 

Reenter Fran, with wine ; retreats as before. 

Fal. (after drinking). Ah ! that trickles to the spot ! I 
must consider of my circumstances ; there seems to be a 
changed atmosphere here. After all my pains in his training, 
to think that Hal should immure me in the Fleet with villains 
vile and rank. And all for nothing ! For a simple ebullition 
of my heartfelt love and eternal devotion. Why did 1 leave 
Master Shallow's orchard ? Why did I rush to the coronation ? 
I should have known that it is unwise to put trust in princes. 
There's nothing now but to settle down with Dame Quickly 
among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits. 

Enter Robert Greene. 

Greene. God ye good den, Sir John. 

Fal. Ah, Master Greene ; is it good den ? 

Greene. It is, your worship ; the sun is in its meridian. 

Fal. Then is the sun in better case than I. Gadzooks, 
Master Greene, we young men are no conservators of time. 
We burn the Standard Oil at both ends; we procrastinate, we 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 5 

wax indifferent; 'tis the inalienable prerogative, the roseate 
province of youth. But our thirst is always with us, Master 
Greene; that is a perennial blessing, for which we should be 
devoutly thankful. Princes and lords may flourish or may fade, 
but a thirst once acquired is never allayed. Francis ! 

Fran, (within). Anon, anon, sir. 

Fal. Bring two cups of wine, you muddy rascal. 

Reenter Fran, with cups, and exit as before. Fal. offers a 
cup to Greene, who shudders. 

Greene. You must excuse me, Sir John; I have drank 
and seen the spider ! 

Fal. What, man ! Never tell me thou hast foresworn sack 
and sugar. 

Greene. 'Tis true, your honor. 

Fal. Then 'tis pity, Master Greene. {Drinks.) Lord, 
how the world changes ! I suppose we'll have universal prohi- 
bition next. They've already started it in the old Southern 
States, where erstwhile the mint julep was the merry cheerer of 
every true gentleman's heart. What next, I wonder ? Mayhap 
when I grow old myself, I'll purge and leave sack and live 
cleanly as a nobleman should do. But while youth and vigor 
last, Master Greene, and there's no obstruction in my gullet, 
I'll drink carouses to the next day's fate. (Drinks again.) 
Ah I balm of Gilead ! But what make you here, Master 
Greene ? This is no place for a teetotaler. 

Greene. I came to learn from your own lips, Sir John, 
whether William Shakespeare, when you wooed our hostess 
here, knew of your love. 

Fal. He did ; he planned the soulful scenes, and framed 
the dulcet dialogue with which we wooed. 

Greene. Indeed. 

Fal. Indeed, ay, indeed ! Discern'st thou aught in that 
contrary to the canons of Christian courtship? Is he not 
honest ? 

Greene. Sir John, for aught I know. 

Fal. What dost thou think ? 

Greene. Think, Sir John ? 

Fal. Think, Sir John. By heaven, he echoes me, as if 
there was some monster in his thought too hideous to be shown. 
Now, Master Greene, I like not this style of dialogue; it savors 
too much of that blackamoor tomfoolery at the Globe theatre. 
How far thou resemblest honest Iago is not for me to say ; but 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

1 think 'tis plainly apparent that I am not built on Othello's 
plan. My occupation may be in jeopardy for the nonce, but 
it hasn't gone yet; and, moreover, I do not propose to anni- 
hilate myself for any guinea hen in all Christendom. Now, 
what is't thou art driving at? 

Greene. Oh, beware, Sir John, of jealousy ; it is the green- 
eyed monster 

Fal. Fudge, Master Greene ! I am not to be moved by 
that fustian. Hast not heard of Doll Tearsheet ? Thinkest 
thou I'd make a life of jealousy to follow still the changes of 
the moon with fresh suspicion on her account ? Art not ac- 
quainted with Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, the merry wives 
of Windsor? My affections never anchor long enough for jeal- 
ousy to sprout, Master Greene; they skip lightly from flower 
to flower in the garden of beauty. I love them all, Master 
Greene, I love them all ! Would that womankind had but one 
mouth, I'd kiss them all from North to South. 

Greene. 'Tis of Mistress Quickly I would speak, your 
honor. 

Fal. And what of Mistress Quickly ? 

Greene. While you languished in prison, Sir John, Shake- 
speare inveigled her to report that a burning quotidian fever 
was gnawing at thy vitals. Then, in due course, she circulated 
a rumor that thou hadst died of a broken heart, with a nose as 
sharp as a pen, and babbling o' greenfields. Oh, Sir John, it 
was pitiful, 'twas pitiful. 

Fal, An he did that, by Saint Patrick, it was damnable. 
But I know you, Master Greene ; I have heard of thy Groats- 
worth of Wit. Thou art no friend of Shakespeare. 

Greene. Curse him, no ! But your own followers can re- 
solve you as to the truth of what I have imparted. 

Fal. By heaven, a light begins to dawn. You say that 
Master Shakespeare killed me? 

Greene. He did, indeed, Sir John. You are as dead as 
door-nail in his estimation. 

Fal. Then, being dead, what should I be? 

Greene. The shade of your former self ; a flimsy, shadowy, 
fleshless ghost. 

Fal. A ghost ! Ha, ha ! A beggarly, revenge-shrieking 
shade. Well, I flatter myself there is not much ghost about this 
goodly corporation. Ha, ha ! A ghost forsooth ! Did ever 
ghost drink as much sack as I to-day ? Then that's why the 
lads slunk away from me. Ha, ha ! Call them in, Master 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION J 

Greene; call them in; 'tis time we disabused their imagina- 
tions. 

Greene (going to door). Nym, Bardolph, Pistol ! {They 
peer timidly out.) Come forth, bully rooks ! 'Tis Sir John 
himself in his habit as he lived. 

Enter Nym, Bar. and Pistol / they salute Fal. 

Nym. ") 

Bar. > Hail, noble imp of fame ! 

Pistol. ) 

Fal. Brave hearts and bold ! We will celebrate this glori- 
ous resurrection. Again shall we hear the chimes at midnight. 
We shall despoil rich chuffs of predatory wealth ; we shall 
smash the monopolistic trusts. And nobles shall ye have, and 
present pay, and good red liquor besides, oceans of it. Cups shall 
not be scanted. We will bathe in Malmsey and swim in sack ! 

Nym. ") 

Bar. y Hurrah ! 

Pistol. ) 

Fal. But tell me, lads ; did ye really think I was dead ? 

Pistol. She told us gently thou wert dead, and we did yearn 
therefore. 

Fal. She? Who? 

Bar. Dame Quickly, your honor. 

Fal. Quickly ! Oh, sit still, my heart, and you, my sinews, 
grow not instant old, but bear me stiffly on my pins. Quickly ! 
Alas ! 'Twas thus he lured the Scottish chieftain to his doom. 
The words come home to me now. If 'twere done when 'twere 
done, then 'twere well 'twere done, Quickly ! O frailty ! thy 
name is Quickly ! 

Enter Mrs. Q. 

Mrs. Q. Oh, dear Sir John, how grateful I am to see thee 
back from the grave, with clothes on and in thy right mind, 
with the breath of life in thy nostrils, too, just as it was in the 
Dolphin chamber by the sea coal fire at 

Fal. Peace, wicked woman ! 'Twas thou that made my 
winding sheet. 

Mrs. Q. Indeed, indeed, Sir John, I was as innocent as 
the lifeless babe unborn. 'Twas that rogue, Will Shakespeare. 
He it was that told me to heap clothes on the bed, and to feel 
thy feet and thy knees and thy pulsidge, and all was really as 
cold as any stone, Sir John. 



8 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Fal. Well, clear thy crystals, Nell ; no doubt thy tender 
heart was imposed upon. When I have settled with Master 
Shakespeare, I will speak with thee on those happy themes of 
yore. 

Greene. Moreover, after your alleged death, Sir John 

Fal. What ! was there something after death ? Was not 
the villain satisfied with my murder in cold blood ? 

Greene. On the glorious field of Agincourt, where your 
valor would have added luster to the victory, he put words of 
bitter derogation into the mouth of Fluellen. 

Pistol. An ill-smelling, leek-eating Welshman, Sir John. 

Fal. Ah ! And what did he make that Welsh rabbit say ? 

Greene. That Harry Monmouth, when he came to his 
right wits and judgment, did right in turning down the knight 
with the great belly doublet — the fat man that was full of jests 
and gipes and knaveries and mocks — he had forgot his name. 

Fal. Forgot my name ! Forgot Falstaff ! I'll carve it on 
his beggarly hide ! I'll have it put into double and treble con- 
sonants, and bawled into his ear while he is asleep ! Forgot 
my name ! Kind heaven ! help me to contain myself ! 

Greene. Patience, Sir John, patience ! 

Fal. I'll chop him into ten thousand pieces. 

Greene. Ay, but that might kill him, and Kit Marlowe 
says deaths ends all. We must not be so lenient with him. 
We must devise something lingering and torturing ; we must 
make him suffer in proportion to his crimes. Suppose we plague 
him with his own inventions ? 

Fal. Plague him ? 

Greene. Ay, stir his own chickens to revolt — irritate them 
against him. You, Sir John, have not been the only victim of 
Shakespeare's venomous spleen ; he has maligned and stabbed 
other worthy gentlemen. There's Macbeth, for instance, and 
Mercutio, Sir Toby Belch, my lord Hamlet, Shylock the Jew, 
the noble Antony, and a score of others he has belittled and de- 
famed. Several of them I have already sounded and they are 
ripe for revolt. They will join hands with you, Sir John, and 
you can make the last days of Will Shakespeare more wretched 
than his first. 

Fal. The plot pleases me. We will proclaim him in the 
streets ; poison his pleasures, incense his wife, madden his kins- 
men, and set his mother-in-law upon him. We will throw such 
changes of vexation into his life that he will wish he had ne'er 
been born. 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 9 

Pistol. His vertical column shall be ripped from its base. 

Nym. That's the humor of it ! 

Greene. No time should be lost. Give him no warning. 
Take him grossly, full of bread, with all his crimes broad 
blown, as flush as May. Trip him so that his heels may kick 
at heaven, and his soul may be damned and black as hell ! 

Nym. ") 

Bar. v We shall, bully rook, we shall ! 

Pistol. ) 

Fal. Then about it at once, brave hearts ; some one way, 
some another. Call everybody who has a grievance and a spirit 
for revenge. I will spend but a moment with our hostess here, 
and will be with you straight. 

{Exit Fal. with Mrs.' Q. Nym, Bar. and Pistol draw 
their swords and strut out in single file by the up- stage 
door.) 

Greene. Now let it work ; mischief, thou art afoot, take 
thou what course thou wilt. [Exit. 

Enter Malvolio, carrying a cloak and black mask. 

Mal. This should be the place ; a fit scene for black con- 
spiracy and midnight horrors. I will absorb their plans and 
purposes and baffle their plots, and then will I smile and smile 
my way into the benign favor of Master Shakespeare. Ah ! 
they come ! I must be wary. 

{Retires behind the arras.) 

Reenter Fal. and Mrs. Q. 

Fal. Ay, but to let me die, and go I know not where ; to 
lie in dull cold obstruction and to rot ; this sensible and portly 
frame to become a kneaded clod ; to bathe in fiery floods, or to 
reside in thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; to be imprisoned 
in the viewless winds, and blown with restless violence about 
the pendent world. 

Mrs. Q. Oh, dear Sir John, I never thought it was so bad 
as all that ; it makes my blood run frigidly to hear thee. But 
don't take on so, there's a good man ; anything in reason will I 
do to make amends. Ah ! how often did I dream about being 
my lady, thy wife, in those happy bygone days. 



10 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Fal. Well, say no more, sweet wench. Thou knowest I 
am a compassionate man, and I forgive thee freely. And as 
for that sweet dream of thine, belike it shall yet come true. 

Mrs. Q. Oh, never, Sir John, never ; 'twas but a dream. 

Fal. Ay, but it denoted a happy consummation though it 
was but a dream. Come, buss me, dame, buss me ; and, I 
prithee, lend me thirty shillings. 

Mal. {peeping from arras). Thus would he make his fool 
his purse ! 

Mrs. Q. Nay, but it cannot be, Sir John, it cannot be ; i* 
faith I cannot. 

Fal. Cannot, sweet Quickly ; in the lexicon of Cupid, 
there's no such word as cannot. 

(Mrs. Q. buries her face in apron.) 

Mal. She melts before the flame of that fat Cupid. 

Fal. Why, look up, sweet hostess ! Here am I, hale and 
hearty, though a little thin at the poll ; full of life and vigor ; a 
good portly man, of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most 
noble carriage ; the same sweet and kind and true Jack Falstaff 
that wooed and won thee of yore. 

Mal. The poor bird is limed ! 

Fal. Come buss me, dame, buss me with a constant heart. 
{Offers to kiss her.) Let it be forty shillings if thou canst. 

Enter Pistol up-stage ; starts on seeing the situation. 

Pistol. Oh, hound of Crete ! thinkst thou my spouse to get ? 

Mrs. Q. Mercy ! Pistol ! My husband ! 

Fal. Zounds ! her husband ! Here's a kettle of fish ! 

Pistol (with hand on sword). From the powdered tub of 
infamy fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, Doll Tear- 
sheet she by name, and her espouse. I have and I will hold 
the quondam Quickly for the only she. 

Fal. Why, my trusty ancient, this is grand, this is glorious 
news. But why conceal the espousal from old Jack? Why 
not invite me to the wedding ? But still I am glad and proud 
and fortunate withal. I have now a double-barreled defense 
against drought and disaster — two pistols with but a single 
stock, two flagons that flow as one. Bless ye, my children ; 
long life and happiness, and troops of good-paying guests. 

Pistol. 'Tis nobly said ! I kiss thy neif, sweet knight. 
Give him thy lips, my love ! 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION II 

(Fal. kisses Mrs. Q.) 

Mal. Pshaw ! A flash in the pan ! 

Pistol. Caveto be thy counsellor. Remember the word is 
" pitch and pay" : trust none. [Exit Mrs. Q. 

Fal. How found you our friends, Pistol ? 

Pistol. Excellent well, i' faith ; they roar like raging lions. 

Mal. {advancing with cloak and mask on disguised as 
Othello). Most potent, grave and reverend seigniors 

Fal. That sounds familiar. Ah ! our old college chum, 
the dusky Othello. Welcome to Eastcheap, my lord. 

Mal. That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter 

Fal. Forget that, Othello ; cut it out ! 

Mal. The very head and front of my offending 

Fal. Yes, yes, we know all that. A magnificent speech, 
well phrased, aptly turned, and grandly majestic in its turgid 
flow of Ethiopian eloquence. But you have the wrong cue, 
Otto, my boy. The Senate has adjourned ; Brabantio is dead ; 
and this is the Boar's Head tavern, where wine and wassail 
combine with wit and wisdom to divert humdrum existence into 
rippling rivers of mirth and hilarity. 

Mal. Oh, Desdemona ! Oh ! False to me, to me ! 

Fal. (to Pistol). Get him poppy, or mandragora, or juice 
of cursed hebona in a vial — any old soporific to stop this rav- 
ing. He'll spoil the play. 

Pistol. I'll fix his royal sootiness. [Exit. 

Enter Sir Toby Belch, singing. 

Sir T. Hail, Sir John ; I trust I see thee well. 

Fal. In fair sort, good Sir Toby ; I breathe, I breathe still. 

Sir T. Oh, knight, thou lackest a cup of canary ! 

Fal. Anon, Sir Toby, anon. The management of this inn 
has changed, and I am a trifle uncertain as to my credit yet. 

Mal. Look, if my gentle love be not raised up ! 

Sir T. Why, bless my heart, what have we here ? 

Fal. 'Tis the black general, Othello. He was summoned 
to our conference, but I am afraid the bugs are still in his 
bonnet. 

Mal. Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of mine ! 

(Sir T., who has been watching Mal. intently, snatches off 
his mask.') 

Sir T. A counterfeit knave ! A thin-faced knave, a gull ! 
Taste your legs, you rogue ; put them in motion. 



11 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

{Drives Mal. out.') 

Fal. What ! the mincing Malvolio ! 

Mal. (returning). I'll be revenged on the whole pack of 
you ! 

(Sir T. half draws his sword and Mal. runs out.) 
Reenter Pistol with pillows. 

Pistol. Where is the colored warrior ? 

Fal. Vanished, Pistol. 'Twas the cross-gartered knave, 
Malvolio, in disguise. Sir Toby drove him hence. 

Pistol. That robs the Coroner of a fee ! I was about to 
give the uncircumcised dog his own medicine. 

{Throws away pillows.) 

Sir T. 'Tis better as it is. But this should be a lesson to 
us, Sir John. The colored man is a disturbing element in 
current politics and should be excluded from our councils. 

Fal. It shall be as you say, Sir Toby ; we have troubles 
enough of our own without assuming the black man's bundle. 
I'll pledge thee in a cup of sack, Sir Toby. Francis ! 

Fran, {within). Anon, anon, sir ! 

Fal. Bring wine, you rogue ! 

Pistol. What money is in thy purse, Sir John ? 

Fal. Not a groat, Pistol, not a groat. I can find no 
remedy against this consumption of the purse; borrowing only 
lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. 

Pistol. Then a remedy must you find for consumption of 
sack ; there's eight shillings to pay already. 

Fal. Base is the slave that pays ! Thy own saw, Pistol, 
thy own saw ! 

Pistol. Ay, but the boot is on the other leg now. I'm 
landlord, and 'tis pay or thirst. (Enter Fran, with wine; 
Pistol motions him back.) No mun, no sack ! 

Fal. Sirrah ! bring hither the cups ! 

Pistol {drawing sword). The grave doth gape and doting 
death is near. 

Fal. {drawing). Have I nursed a viper to my bosom? 
Egregious dog ! I'll slice thy miserly throat. 

Pistol. Miser ! The miser in thy most merveillous face ; 
the miser in thy teeth and throat, and in thy hateful lungs, 
yea, in thy maw, perdy, and, which is worse, within thy nasty 
mouth ! I thee defy ! 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 



l 3 



Sir T. (going between). Put up your bright swords, or the 
dew will rust them ! An thou sheathe not thy weapon, ancient 
Pistol, I'll run thee up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. 

Pistol (sheathing). An oath of mickle might; and fury 
shall abate ; but wine flows not without the price. 

Sir T. Friendship must combine and brotherhood. Francis, 
deliver the cups. (Fran, serves Fal. and Sir T.) We must 
drink down all unkindness. (They drink.) Score this on me, 
Pistol. 

(Pistol goes to the door and chalks up figures. While he 
is doing so, enter Macbeth, Shylock, Lady Macbeth, 
Dogberry, Verges, Mark Antony, Mercutio, Polo- 
nius, Bottom, King Claudius, Hamlet's Ghost, Nym, 
Bar. and Maria. Mrs. Q. comes from side entrance.) 

Fal. Welcome all, good friends; a hundred thousand 
welcomes. (Attendants bring chairs and range them in semi- 
circle, like the set of a minstrel show. Sir T. and Pistol 
take the ends ; Fal. takes the interlocutor's seat in center.) 
Nym and Bardolph will see that the doors are secured, and tile 
the center portal. 

(Nym and Bar. obey instructions.) 

Pistol. How do you sagatiate this evening, Brother Toby ? 

Sir T. Somewhat salubrious and suspicious, thank you, 
Brother Pistol. And what may be the mental and physical 
state of your corporosity ? 

Pistol. Oh, Fse scrumptious and bumptious. Brother 
Toby, can you tell me when Shakespeare is not Shakespeare ? 

Sir T. That's easy, Brother Pistol. Shakespeare is not 
Shakespeare when he lacks Bacon. 

Pistol. Why, Brother Toby, Fse surprised at your igno- 
ramousness. There may be some hams here, but this is not a 
baconical convention. Try again, Brother Toby. 

Sir T. Well, Brother Pistol, if Shakespeare is himself with- 
out Bacon, I give it up. When is Shakespeare not Shake- 
speare, Brother Pistol ? 

Pistol. When he is put on the stage. (Characters laugh.) 
I've another 

Fal. Come to order, gentlemen. This is an indignation 
meeting, not a minstrel show ! (Noise at c. door up stage, 
which opens and shows Othello trying to e7iter. Nym and 



14 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Bar. push him out and close the door.) Comrades in mis- 
fortune and companions in revenge : We have deemed it 
prudent at this crisis of the nation's history to disfranchise the 
colored voter. Henceforth, this is to be a white man's country. 

All. Hurrah ! 

Fal. I am glad to hear this expression of unanimity and 
approval, for these be parlous times, and united we stand, 
divided we fall. In union there is strength. 

Claud. Not always, Mr. Chairman ; the union I put in 
Hamlet's cup did not strengthen me. 

Hamlet's Ghost. Thank God for that. He doped me 
while sleeping in my orchard, my custom in the afternoon. 

Pistol. Oh, that's an old story. It needs no ghost to 
come from the grave to tell us that. 

Lady M. Shame, shame ! 

Maria. It's an outrage to vex a poor ghost. 

Hamlet's Ghost. Oh, don't mind me ; I have no bones for 
words to bruise. 

Fal. Ladies ! Gentlemen ! Restrain yourselves, I beg of 
you. Let private animosity and individual spite be replaced 
with magnanimity and devotion to the common weal. We have 
met on this occasion to make common cause against a general 
enemy — one who, to gratify rabid spleen and personal malice, 
has employed every implement of indignity and malignity 
known to practical politics ; a man who, base born and low 
bred himself, is no respecter of persons; a man who twists and 
distorts historic truths for self-aggrandizement ; a man who 

Pistol. Name, name ! Who is this Man Who ? 

Fal. 'Tis that deer-stealing, sheep-biting knave, Will 
Shakespeare. 

All. Ah ! ah ! 

Fal. Each and every one in convention here assembled, I 
opine, has been wrongfully abused by him. 

Mer. I can answer for one. He cut me short in a career 
that promised mirth and laughter to the end of time. The 
wound was not as deep as a well, or as wide as a church door, 
but it served, it served ! 

Mac. And I can answer for another. He kept the word 
of promise to my ear but broke it to my hope. He stole mid- 
night hags and evil spells from Thomas Middleton to bewitch 
and betray and destroy me. 

Maria. He broke dear Sir Toby's head before we were 
married, and it has never been right since. 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 1 5 

Sir T. Nor never will be again, I'm afraid, while I am 
married. 

Maria. You wretch ! wait till I get you home ! 

Hamlet's Ghost. He sent me to purgatory, to fast in fires 
and do such stunts as the bitter day would quake to look 
upon. 

Claud. Would he had kept thee there forever, thou mis- 
erable night prowler. 

Hamlet's Ghost. Oh, thou incestuous,' thou adulterate 
beast ! 

Fal. Gentlemen, gentlemen I For heaven's sake, keep 
order ! 

Hamlet's Ghost. I was simply using Master Shakespeare's 
language ; surely that's good enough for anybody. 

Claud. And I was merely expressing a wish which, had it 
been granted in time, would have prevented a terrible tragedy 
involving even my own life. 

Fal. Yes, yes, gentlemen ; but you forget there are ladies 
present. 

Lady M. Oh, don't mind us; we are all married women. 

Maria. Yes, we can discriminate. 

Sir T. You bet ! 

Fal. Proceed with the roll call. What say you, Polonius ? 

Pol. He made young Hamlet pretend that I was a rat, and 
kill me on the paltry wager of a dollar. Dead for a ducat, 
forsooth ! 

Mac. Hoot, mon ! A ducat's a mickle o' money; it's a 
hundred bawbees. 

Sir T. It means oatmeal galore ! 

Pistol. And muckle whiskey ! 

Shy. He robbed me of my ducats and my daughter; 
cheated me of my just revenge; deprived me of the prop that 
sustained my house, and made me cry content. 

Dog. Yes, and he had me writ down an ass — me, a house- 
holder, an officer, and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh 
as any is in Messina. 

Bot. He made a regular ass of me — me that can aggravate 
my voice, and roar you as gently as any sucking dove. 

Verges. And he had no suspect for my grey hairs. 

Lady M. Of me, a woman of noble birth and gentle breed- 
ing, he made a whining somnambulist, wrestling with a damned 
spot, and enacting again the scene of a tragedy necessary tQ 
Ihe honor and fame of Bonnie Scotland, 



1 6 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Mks. Q. Greatly against my grain and unnatural inclina- 
tion, lie wheedled me into making a false report of Sir John's 
death, and then married me to Pistol. 

Mer. That was the most unkindest cut of all. 

Pistol. Sir ! 

Fal. But we have not heard from the noblest Roman of 
them all. What sayest thou, Antony ? 

Antony. I have no personal complaint, good Sir John. 
Shakespeare's treatment of Cleopatra and myself was very kind 
and considerate. 

Fal. What, man ! where is thy Roman pride? He served 
thee worse than Christopher Sly ; he gave thee the first authen- 
ticated attack of delirium tremens. 

Antony. Jest not, Sir John. It ill becomes the High 
Priest of Sack to speak lightly on such a theme. 

Fal. I jest not, noble Antony, nor do I speak lightly. Be- 
stir thy brains. Dost not recollect that scene with Eros? 
Didst thou not have " black vesper's pageants " ? Didn't thou 
sometimes see a cloud that's dragonish, a vapor some time like 
a bear or lion, a blue promontory with nodding trees upon 't, 
and green monkeys and pink rabbits that mocked and gibbered 
at thee? 

Antony. Stop, I implore thee ! Methinks I see them still ! 

Pistol. He had them, sure enough ! 

Antony. I will take any pledge; I'll vote ay for anything. 

Fal. Then are we all agreed and absolute for revenge. 
The next question is what form shall our vengeance take ? 

Shy. I move that Lady Macbeth, Dame Quickly, Maria, 
and our noble chairman be appointed a committee on that sub- 
ject with power to act. 

Mer. I cordially second that motion. 

Fal. All in favor will say, Ay. 

All. Ay ! 

Fal. Opposed ? None ! Is there any further business, 
gentlemen? 

Mer. May I ask why there is such a small representation 
of female characters here ? 

Fal. An apposite question, very. Pistol, were the invita- 
tions extended to all our beloved sisters, without fear or favor ? 

Pistol. Noble chairman, they were. Some of them were 
over timid to attend ; some were fearful of coming to a tavern 
without male escorts. Ophelia, Desdemona and Viola made 
the excuse that they had nothing fit to wear. My lord Hamlet 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 1 7 

said that the constant dread of an insane asylum kept him in 
seclusion nowadays. 

Sir T. As there are some ladies present, and to avoid mis- 
haps that might arise from that circumstance, I suggest that the 
convention bind itself to secrecy. 

Hamlet's Ghost. Swear ! 

Fal. That's the word, old truepenny; swear. 

ad . j q|^ g en tlemen, do not be so unkind; do not 
M AR A f make us swear secrecy. 

Fal. We must, we must, for the general safety. 

Sir T. Propose the oath, Sir John. 

Fal. Swear, each and every one of you, upon my sword, 
the emblem of honor and true knighthood, that you will reveal 
to no one the proceedings of this day, so grace and mercy at 
your most need help you. 

Hamlet's Ghost. Swear ! 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE. — Shakespeare' s Workshop. Three curtained cabi- 
nets labeled" Comedy," "History" " Tragedy." Armor 
and stage properties scattered around. Table with large 
paste-pot and shears, pens, ink, etc. Bookcase near tabic 
containing "Montaigne's Essays" North's "Plutarch," 
"Familiar Quotations," " Rhyming Dictionary," Abbott 1 s 
"Shakespearian Grammar," etc. 

(William Shakespeare discovered at table.) 

Shake. To be or not to be ? What an undying plague that 
question has become. It drops as easily from schoolboy's piping 
throat as from actor's tragic maw. It baffles the murky mind 
of melancholy, moonstruck youth, and distracts the aims of 
shaking, palsied eld. iVnd what is't after all? A cheap catch- 
phrase rounded with the facile nib of a grey-goose quill ; a 
perennial coil from the feathered membrane of a barnyard fowl ! 
The wing of a goose the weapon of the wise. Foh ! The con- 
ceit is sickening ! It smells of Alexander and the beer barrel. 
But I must to work. (Draws curtain of cabinet disclosing 
Ophelia at a typewriter.} Here's metal more attractive than 
a grey-goose quill ! Art ready, sweet? 

Ophe. I am, my lord. 

Shake. My thanks are thine for that sweet word, Ophelia. 
A title of one's own is better far than a coat-of-arms for one's 
father. An it please thee, sweet one, I'll e'en rattle off a few 
lines for "The Tempest," which is billed for next week. 
(Ophe. sits down with her note-book and writes as Shake. 
dictates.} " You fools ! I and my fellows are ministers of 
fate ; the elements of whom your swords are tempered may as 
well wound the loud winds, or with bemocked-at stabs kill 
the still-closing waters, as diminish one dowle that's in my 
plume; my fellow ministers are alike invulnerable. If you 
could hurt, your swords are now too massy for your strengths, 
and will not be uplifted." Put that through thy typewriter 
sweet Ophelia, while I entrust Desdemona with a few gems of 
winged thought. {Pulls curtain of next cabinet and discov- 
ers Desdemona.) Good-rnorrow, gentle Pesdemona. Take 

18 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 19 

thy graphite wand, I prithee, and let thy nimble digits transfix 
a verbal picture of my glowing thought. Where left we off last 
in " Measure for Measure " ? 

Des. {reading from notes). " Lucio (aside to Isabella) : 
That's well said.' 7 

Shake. Ay, that's it. 

Des. (writing). Who says that ? 

Shake. Says what, sweet ? 

Des. "Ay, that's it." 

Shake. Oh, strike that out, dear heart ; that's not Shake- 
speare ; that's a remark of my own. Nothing of my own must 
drift into the plays ; 'twould be a deathblow to the learned 
commentators. Now proceed : 

11 Isabella: Could great men thunder as Jove himself does, 
Jove would ne'er be quiet, for every pelting, petty officer would 
use his heaven for thunder, nothing but thunder ! Merciful 
heaven, thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt splitst 
the unwedgeable and gnarled oak than the soft myrtle ; but 
man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant 
in what he is most assured, his glassy essence, like an angry 
ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven as make the 
angels weep." 

Pound away on that, gentle Desdemona, while I turn one of 
my sugared sonnets with Viola at the desk. {Goes to next 
cabinet and discovers Viola.) Take this fire-new from the 
mint, sweet Patience : 

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 
I all alone beweep my outcast state, 
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, 
And look upon myself, and curse my fate, 
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, 
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, 
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, 
With what I most enjoy contented least : 
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, 
Haply I think on thee, — and then my state 
(Like to the lark at break of day arising 
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate ; 
For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings, 
That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 

Ophe. {coming from cabinet with note-book). How spell 
you " invulnerable," Master Shakespeare? 



20 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Shake. You can search me, Ophelia. Orthography and I 
are not on good terms. To flout the tricksy jade, I rarely spell 
my own name twice the same way. Spell it how it pleases thee, 
chuck, and risk it with the printers. 

Des. (coming forward with note-book). Oh, dear Master 
Shakespeare, in my notes there's a word I cannot decipher. 

Shake. What looks it like, sweet ? 

Des. Why, it might be almost anything, Master Shake- 
speare ; magpie, martin, mouse or mortal — ah ! that's it, 
" mortal " ; — " than the soft mortal." 

Shake. Well, it matters not whate'er it be, sweetheart ; 
one word is as good as another in these benighted days. Let it 
be " mortal," an thou wilt, dear heart ; some pedant will surely 
change it after it leaves the press, and pride himself on dis- 
covering a new reading. Let be, chuck, let be. 

Ophe. That girl is abominable; she's always making ex- 
cuses to hang around Will. (Noise outside.) 

Shake. By the twitching of my larboard ear, a harbinger of 
evil will now appear. To your eeries, my birds ! 

(Stenographers enter cabinets and draw the curtai?is. 
Shake, goes to table and assumes attitude of study. 
Enter Ben Jonson.) 

Jonson. Look where my abridgement sits ! I warrant 
there are tears in his eyes as well as distraction in his aspect. 
Ah ! he writes. How swift the quill travels o'er the virgin 
sheet ! No deletions, no carat marks, no pause for words. 
His brain throbbing with battalions of galloping thoughts, his 
eye in fine frenzy rolling, twisting the forms of things unknown 
into tangible shapes, and giving to airy nothing a local habita- 
tion and a name. What ho ! my Shakespeare ! Leave off thy 
damnable faces and greet thy friend. 

Shake, (throwing down pen). What ! Ben Jonson, or I do 
forget myself. 

Jonson. The same, friend Will, and thy poor servant ever. 

Shake. I am very glad to see you. But what, in faith, 
bring you from the Mermaid, Ben ? 

Jonson. A sober disposition, Master Will. 

Shake. I would not hear your enemy say so. I'll teach 
you to drink deeper ere you depart. 

Jonson. An you do that, Will, I'll write a sonnet for the 
First Folio of thy plays, and fool the world with grand com- 
parisons. But hast thou the wherewithal ? 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 21 

Shake. What ! never say thou art thirsty, Ben. 

Jonson. Thirsty ! My lips are as dry as kippered her- 
rings, and several bales of Sea Island cotton are lodged within 
my mouth ! 

Shake. A cup of ale is a dish for a king, eh, Ben ? 

Jonson. I prithee, do not mock me, fellow mummer. Even 
small ale is welcome in the morning. But where is it ? Pro- 
duce, Will, produce ! 

Shake. I am sorry for thy katzenjammer, Ben ; but — . — 

Jonson. What ! another of thy tricks of fancy. Thou hast 
neither ale nor sack nor aqua vitae. Thou art a villainous 
compound of frivolity and prevarication. 

Shake. Say not so, good Ben. Why, I can call spirits 
from the vasty deep. 

Jonson. Yes, I've heard that before. But will they come 
when thou dost call ? 

Shake, (going to dumb-waiter, beckoning). What see'st 
thou there ? 

(Des., Ophe. and 'Viola peep out of cabinets!) 

Jonson. A fearful and dark abysm, rumbles of voices and 
odors pungent, powerful and pleasant. Heavens, Will, what 
mystery is this ? 

Shake. 'Tis my well of English undefiled ! Now for an 
incantation. Stand back, Ben, stand back ! (Chants.) 

Black and White, Mountain Dew, 
Come up quick for us two ! 

(Scotch whiskey, seher bottle and glasses spring up. Shake. 
mixes two highballs, hands one to Jonson, who drinks 
and sighs in ecstasy.) 

Jonson. Day and night, this is wondrous strange ! 

Shake. Therefore, as a stranger, give it welcome, Ben. 

Jonson. I will, I do ! If this be magic, I'll make the most 
of it ! Fill full again, Will. (Shake, mixes another drink 
for Jonson.) Glorious, celestial, divine ! How comes it 
hither ? 

Shake. That's one of the secrets of my art, Ben. 

Jonson. I see ; but, between ourselves, now 

Shake. Wilt keep the secret ? 

Jonson. As heaven is my judge, Will. 

Shake. There's a spring in the well. 



22 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Jonson. A spring ! Oh, ah ! I see. Ha ! ha ! Well 
sprung, indeed ! 

Shake. Have another, Ben. 

Jonson. Well, it's gratifying, and mighty searching; pleas- 
ing to the palate, and soothing to the pate. I must confess it 
likes me well. Yes, I think one more will do no harm, Will. 

{Dri?iks again, and Shake, places the bottles back on the 
dumb -waiter , which descends quickly, .) 

Enter Oth. and Mal. 

Mal. We seek the honorable Master Shakespeare ; which 
is he? 

Jonson. Jumping Jupiter, the cross-gartered gull knows not 
his own father. 

Oth. Then you, I take it, are the great master. 

Jonson. Now, what sane man would take me for Shake- 
speare? No, most honorable sootiness, there's your quarry. 

{Points to Shake.) 

Mal. The heavens rain blessings on your honor. 

Oth. Excellent wretch, perdition catch my soul, but I do 
love thee, and when I love thee not, chaos is come again ! 

Jonson. What means this, Will ? Canst thou not keep the 
puppets in order ? 

Shake. Of a truth, Ben, they sometimes get beyond me ; 
but this is as strange to me as 'tis to thee.. Now, my masters, 
be so good as to explain your presence here. I thought I had 
seen the last of ye ! 

Mal. I pray your honor to possess yourself in patience. 
We have matters of the gravest import to unfold. 

Oth. We would speak of plots dark and base, of intrigues 
foul and unnatural, of filial treachery and mutiny impious. 

? HAKE ' \ Mutiny! 

JONSON. ) y 

Mal. Ay, your worships, mutiny with its hideous train of 
blood and devastation. The pack is out and yelping for 
revenge. 

Shake. Come, come, my friends, keep your bombast for 
the stage, and tell plainly what you mean. 

Mal. Falstaff has escaped the Fleet, and hied himself to 
the Boar's Head. 

Shake. Falstaff escaped ! That's news, indeed ! Tut ! 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 23 

man, I'm afraid thy wit is still affected. Falstaff is dead; I 
killed him myself ! 

Oth. Indeed, my lord, 'tis true. The measures you took 
for Sir John's demise were ineffectual. Dame Quickly was de- 
ceived thereby, and so were his comrades in drink and deviltry. 
But Falstaff is alive and well, and inflamed with designs of 
crimson vengeance. Robert Greene has been with him. 

Shake. Death and damnation, O ! 

Oth. Ah, I see you are moved. With cunning words and 
deep, Greene has turned the tide of filial affection against you. 
A meeting of your leading characters has been held with Fal- 
staff in the chair. They have recounted their grievances 
against you. All are agreed upon retaliatory measures, and a 
committee is now devising what shape the punishment shall 
take. 

Shake, {faintly). Lend me thy hand, Ben; my heart 
grows cold. 

Jonson. Bear up, Will; cheerily, lad, cheerily. Don't 
show the white-feather in front of these mountebanks. May I 
ask, noble Othello, why you did not take part in this extra- 
ordinary convention ? 

Oth. The knaves drew the color line on me. Otherwise I 
should have delivered a speech in opposition to the movement. 

Jonson. Yes, you are fond of making speeches. On what 
ground would you have based your opposition ? 

Oth. Sir, no fault have I to find with Master Shakespeare. 
My lines were always strong and mouth-filling, the situations 
were thrilling, and the end was bloody enough to satisfy my 
martial spirit. 

Jonson. True, noble Othello; Will certainly showed kind- 
ness toward the colored race. 'Twas pity, though, the law 
against miscegenation was not enforced in your case. 

Oth. Toads and monkeys, sir ! 

Jonson. Don't get angry, noble Othello; that fustian 
doesn't count here. And you, Malvolio, why didn't you join 
the procession ? 

Mal. To be round with you, sir, 'twas because I had ene- 
mies in the convention. 

Jonson. Ah, still governed by personal motives. Is that 
all you have to convey, gentlemen ? 

Oth. We thought timely warning might enable Master 
Shakespeare to circumvent the mutinous rogues. 

JonsoNo Well, we are extremely obliged for your informa- 



24 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

tion, and now have the distinguished honor of bidding you 
good day. (Bows them to door, and returns to Shake.) 
Hearten thyself, Will. Forewarned is forearmed. There's 
time and to spare to foil the knaves. 

Shake. 'Tis not that, Ben, not that that unmans me; 'tis 
the base ingratitude of my offspring. Think how I nursed them 
into public favor ; the days and nights I toiled and moiled over 
them ; the way in which I even begged, borrowed and stole to 
make them agreeable to popular taste. And Falstaff, of all my 
sprightly brood — for him to turn and rend me ! It makes me 
sick at heart. Oh, Ben, 'tis sharper than a serpent's tooth to 
have a thankless child ! 

Jonson. Tush, man ; away with mawky sentiment ; rouse 
thy manly heart. We will to the Mermaid to devise swift 
means of punishment for this rebellious crew. [Exeunt. 

(Ophe., Des. and Viola come from the cabinets.) 

Ophe. Heard ye the fearful news, sisters ? 

Viola. It follows hard upon the mysterious hints that Pistol 
dropped. 

Des. My bosom swells with its terrible import. 

Viola. 'Twas real nice of Othello to reveal the plot. 

Ophe. 'Twas very unselfish on his part, seeing how fond he 
is of smothering things. 

Des. That's an unkind remark, Ophelia dear. 

Ophe. Not unless you take it to yourself. 

Des. I had a Christian death-bed anyway, and not a 
suicide's grave. 

Ophe. You horrid thing; no respectable Northern girl 
would have eloped with a Negro. 

Des. He was not a Negro ; he was the Moor of Venice, and 
had royal blood in his veins. You're a nasty spiteful creature, 
and never had a husband at all. 

Viola. Ladies ! pray stop this wrangling ; it's a serious re- 
flection on our characters. Now, Ophelia, I am sure you 
meant no harm ; and the gentle Desdemona is loved every- 
where for her sweetness. Kiss and be friends. 

(They embrace.) 

Ophe. Don't mind my horrible temper, dear. 
Des. 'Twas my fault; I'm sorry I was so unkind. 
Viola. We must contrive means to aid Master Shakespeare 
in this crisis. What's best to be done? 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 25 

Ophe. First, let's call comfort from his vasty deep. 

Des. Know you the spell ? 

Ophe. 'Tis as easy as lying. {Goes to dumb-waiter.*) 

Ice-cream and Ceylon tea, 
Send them up for us three ! 

{Dumb-waiter makes prompt delivery. Tea things are 
placed on table and Ophe. serves. ) 

Viola. This reminds me of a picnic in Illyria. 

Des. It's better than a feast in Cyprus. 

Ophe. Or a cold bath under a slanting willow tree. 

Viola. It's invigorating. 

Des. And cheering. 

Ophe. The nicest ever. 

Viola. Of course, we must stick to Shakespeare. 

Ophe. Oh, yes ; what would we have been without him ? 

Des. He certainly was good to me. 

Ophe. Well, don't brag about it. 

Des. I was not bragging, dear Ophelia. 

Ophe. Yes, you were. 

Des. I was not. 

Ophe. Of course, you'll have the last word. You talked 
back with the pillow in your mouth. 

Des. It's a lie, a wicked lie ! 

Ophe. Don't you call me names, you common white trash ! 

Viola. Ladies, ladies ! I beg of you not to quarrel. 
Think how it looks. 

Des. I am not quarreling ; I'm too gentle to quarrel. 

( Cries?) 

Ophe. {crying). And I didn't mean anything. Kiss me 
again, sweet Desdemona. {They embrace.} 

Viola. Let's invoke the spirits in aid of Shakespeare. 

Des. That's a happy thought. But how shall we do 't? 

Ophe. You ought to know ; you were wooed by witchcraft. 

Des. I was not ; I was wooed and won by Othello's valor. 

Ophe. Well, your father didn't believe that. 

Des. Don't you dare to say a word about my father. 

Ophe. And why not, pray ? Much you cared for your 
father when you ran off with a blackamoor. 

Des. Oh, I wish I were not so gentle ; I'd scratch your 



26 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

horrid eyes out. No wonder Hamlet told you to go to a nun- 
nery. 

Ophe. Well, it's the last place one would find you in. 

Viola. Ladies, ladies ! how unseemly this is. 

Des. Marry come up, Miss Patience on a Monument ! 
Mind your own business ! 

Ophe. Yes, do ! You are entirely too meddlesome. You 
never told your love, you didn't, but you trapped the Duke all 
the same. 

Viola. What I did was honorably done. 

Ophe. No such thing ! 'Twas unmaidenly done. You put 
on tights and masqueraded as a page. 

Des. And, pretending to be a man, you acted like a silly, 
giddy girl. I blushed for you when I heard of it. 

Viola. Oh, why did I leave Illyria ? 

Ophe. Perhaps the Duke wearied of you. 

Viola. Oh, oh ! 

Des. There, there, don't cry, Viola. We are awfully 
wicked and spiteful. 

Ophe. We are only women, you know. 

Viola. You touched me on a tender spot, dear. 

Ophe. Yes, I know. But let us forget and forgive, and 
never, never be naughty with one another again. 

{They embrace.) 

Viola. And now we'll call the spirits. I know how 'tis 
done ; I watched Master Shakespeare when he was working on 
Macbeth. ( Goes to corner of r 00771 and brings forth a caldron.) 
We must play the witches ourselves. 

{They gather round the caldron.) 

Ophe. Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. 
Des. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. 
Viola. Harpier cries, 'Tis time, 'tis time. 
All. Black spirits and white ; red spirits and grey ; 
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may. 
Titty, tiffin, keep it stiff in ; 
Firedrake, Pucky, make it lucky ; 
Liard, Robin, you must bob in. 
Round, around, around, about, about ; 
All ill come running in ; all good keep out. 

{Thunder a 7id lightning.) 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 27 

Viola. Oh, they come, they come ! 
Ophe. I'm scared ! oh ! 

( Thunder and lightning.} 

Des. Oh, oh ! 

(They hide in cabinets.} 

Enter Fal. Sniffs at caldron. 

Fal. What devil's instrument is this ? No wonder I smelled 
brimstone. This must be the machine that makes his ghosts 
and goblins, his bearded witches and breechless fairies. (Ophe. 
peeps out.} There's one now. They say that he that speaks 
to them shall die. But that's a fable. I'll speak to it though 
it blast me. Stay illusion ! If thou hast any sound or use of 
voice, speak to me. 

Ophe. Why, it's old Jack FalstafT! Come, girls, here's 
nothing to be scared of. 

(Ophe., Des. and Viola surround Fal.) 

Fal. Bless my heart, here's three of them, and — yes — no, 
yes — it's that trinity of heroines in their stage attire. Here in 
Shakespeare's studio ! I am pleased to meet ye, fair dames, 
but I mistrust your presence here. What a Turk that man 
must be ! 

Ophe. Do not impugn our motives, Sir John ; we are here 
on business. 

Fal. Business, forsooth \ what business ? 

Viola. Our business. 

Des. And it's none of your business. 

Fal. Well, judging from your variegated pasts, your busi- 
ness is of a nature that will not stand the test of critical exami- 
nation. 

Ophe. Good Sir John, be not so harsh with us. All flesh 
is frail. 

Fal. Not so, young woman, not so. Were all flesh frail, 
where would my morality be? 'Tis a false and foolish con- 
clusion. 

Viola. And do you, Sir John, set up as an example of vir- 
tue ? When did you last see Master Ford, and how liked you 
the bath in Datchedmead ? 

Fal. Will that tale never be downed ? That's another 
score against Master Shakespeare. But I must dissemble. I 



28 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

know thy cunning, my pretty piece of painted propriety ; thou 
played it nicely upon the beauteous Olivia. I wonder thou 
darest to show thy face in honest company. Hast no remorse 
or shame ? 

Viola. More than enough to save thee from Hades, were I 
so disposed, thou vile slanderer. 

Fal. An you give me more of your tongue, I'll call the 
watch. 

Des. The watch, thou reeking bombard of sack and vanity ; 
the. watch would be only too glad to get hold of thy ugly 
carcase. 

Ophe. Yea, verily; thy presence here causes a huge gap 
in the Fleet. 

Fal. What a trio of viragoes ! And but yesterday I 
thought them gentle, sweet and kind, like all that vagrant's 
heroines. Well, ladies, since soft words and mild persuasion 
avail naught, I shall call in Master Shakespeare's wife ; per- 
haps she will have a few words to say to you. 

All. Master Shakespeare's wife ! 

Fal. Ah, that strikes home ! Yes, his wife, formerly Mis- 
tress Anne Hathaway, who has just arrived from Stratford to 
administer reproof and counsel to her recreant spouse. 

Ophe. I won't believe it ; the fat rogue is a notorious liar. 

Des. He seems in earnest ; perhaps there is something be- 
hind this threat. 

Ophe. Misgivings seize me also. Oh, these men, these 
men ! 

Fal. It takes, it takes I The knave has been trifling with 
their young affections. 

Viola {after whispering with the others'). Good Sir John, 
tell us it is not so ; say you said it to tease us. 

Fal. So that's the way the land lays, is it ? That's why 
you flouted my messengers. You had nothing to wear, eh ? 
It seems to me you have it on, Mistress Viola, and very becom- 
ing, too, with your lovely figure. 

Viola. Oh, you ill-mannered wretch ! 

Des. Would that Othello were here now ! 

Fal. Would he were, pillows and all ! 

Ophe. You are an unfeeling ruffian ! 

Viola. A footpad and a bully ! 

Des. A common thief, a runagate ! 

Ophe. A besotted, lying, scoundrelly rake ! 

Viola. Let's scratch his eyes out ! 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 29 

{They dash at Fal., who runs out crying ; " Mistress Shake- 
speare, Mistress Shakespeare .") 

Enter Shake. 

Shake. What ails ye, girls? 

All. Falstaff ! 

Shake. Falstaff ! 

Ophe. x\y, that muddy, corpulent knight-errant of thine. 

Shake. How came he hither ? 

Des. We were calling upon the spirits to preserve thee, and 
lo ! Falstaff appeared ! 

Shake. So ye were meddling with my magic art ! How 
oft have I warned ye to beware of curiosity, the emerald-hued 
enemy of your sex that grows by what it feeds upon. But there's 
no obedience or fealty in woman ! Would that the devil had 
come in answer to your spells ! 

Viola. You are very rude, Master Shakespeare ! 

Des. And cruel and unkind ! 

Ophe. And a low, deceitful married man ! 

Viola. And we just hate you, we do ! 

(They weep.) 

Shake. Merciful powers ! They know my secret ! 
Des. And we were so happy and trustful ! 
Ophe. Devoted to his service ! 
Viola. And loyal to his dearest aims ! 

{They weep again.) 

Shake. This ecstasy amazes me ! How have I been cruel, 
or unkind, or deceitful? Ye were ever the children of my 
happiest fancy, the fairy forms of my divinest love, the apples 
of my impassioned eyes ! The dark lady of my sonnets was 
not so dear to my heart ; and yet, in one brief moment, I find 
ye changed to furies tearing passion to tatters in senseless rage. 
Say, why is this ? 

Ophe. Then, 'tis not true ; you are not a married man ? 

Shake. Do I look like a married man ? 

Des. He equivocates. 

Viola. He speaks not by the card. 

Ophe. And betrays us all. 



30 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

(They weep.) 
Shake. By heaven, I swear 

Enter Fal., leading Mrs. Q., disguised as Mistress Shake- 
speare. 

Fal. Don't be alarmed, my dear Mistress Shakespeare; 
I'll be bound this is not the only time you have heard him 
swear. Take a good look around before you embrace your lov- 
ing husband. Note what company he keeps — two grass widows 
and an adventuress from Elsinore. 

Mrs. Q. Oh, you brazen trulls ! What are you doing with 
my husband ? 

Viola. We are no trulls, I'd have you know, Madam ; we 
are Master Shakespeare's stenographers. 

Mrs. Q. Stenographers ! Oh, good Sir John, listen to that ! 
Stenographers ! Could it be worse, Sir John, could it be worse ? 
I have heard of these stenographers ! They lisp and they amble 
and murder the Queen's English ; and go to the playhouse with 
their masters, and eat up our substance at tavern lunches, while 
doting wives sit lonesomely miserable at home ! Stenographers ! 
Oh, my fan and my salts, Sir John; I am quite flustrated with 
agitating commotions. 

Fal. Be calm. Mistress Shakespeare, be calm. Appear- 
ances are certainly against him, but he may still be true, he 
may still be true ! 

Mrs. Q. Oh, dear Sir John, look at the man, and then tell 
me he stays in London for nothing but play-acting, while I sit 
at home darning and spinning and worriting to make ends 
meet. Look at him, quite chapfallen, dumbfounded as a mouse 
in the paws of a cat. 

Fal. Now that I mark him, he has a hangdog expression. 
For shame, Master Shakespeare ! Dismiss these trulls ! Take 
the wife of your youth to your bosom. Ask her pardon like a 
man. 

Shake. Sir John Falstaff, 'twas not long ago that I loved 
thee. I glossed over thy faults and thy follies with tender 
hand. Against my better judgment I persuaded myself that 
thy heart was as big as thy bulk, and that thy multitude of sins 
evaporated in beams of good nature and fecundity of wit. 
Now do I see that I was wrong. Thou hast abused my 
charity, decried my fair fame, and maliciously disturbed my 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 3I 

peace. And now, to cap all, thou bringest this foolish woman 
to masquerade as my wife, when thou knowest full well that I 
am free of the bonds of matrimony and slave to no woman on 
earth. 

Fal. 'Tis false; thou'rt married; here is the ocular proof! 

Mrs. Q. Dost thou wrong me first and deny me after- 
ward ? O woeful day ! My poor children ! Take me back to 
Stratford, Sir John, and there let me die ! 

Viola. Master Shakespeare, we are really and truly sorry 
for you ; but if this woman is your lawful wife, we will forgive 
the harsh words she has applied to us, and beg that you will 
be reconciled to her. 

Ophe. Our hearts may break, but we will depart content 
an you kiss and make up with her. 

Des. See how the poor lady suffers from your coldness. 
Take her to your bosom, Master Shakespeare. 

Fal. There's self-denial for you ! There's Christian good- 
will and self-abnegation ! Ladies, I salute you. You are 
pure and unadulterated ornaments of your sex ! 

Mrs. Q. I will never speak ill of stenographers again. 
Come and buss me, Will. 

(She approaches Shake, with outstretched arms. Shake. 
repulses her. Fal. goes to door and beckons. Other 
characters troop in and form picture.') 

Fal. Friends, Romans, citizens, lend me your ears ! You 
all have occasion to know William Shakespeare. To some of 
you he has been cruel where he should have been kind. Most 
of you owe him a grudge for indignities received at his hands. 
He has dealt with you often, not according to your just deserts, 
or according to the strict canons of dramatic law, but simply 
as his changeful mood guided him, now in sorrow, now in 
anger, sometimes in mad rage, and again with diabolical spleen 
and sardonic spite. He now stands exposed to all posterity as 
a common trickster. Mark him well. The giglot fortune no 
longer befriends him. The star of his destiny grows dim and 
obscure. For to-day, friends and compatriots, Master Shake- 
speare falls flat from his pedestal, and grovels in the dust as a 
vulgar married man. There stands his trustful wife, new- 
lighted from Stratford-on-Avon, with the love-light in her eyes 
and the ecstasy of passion in her swelling stomacher. Kiss 
him, sweet Mistress Shakespeare ; and joy to Shakespeare, the 
married man ! 



32 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

(Mrs. Q. throws her arms around Shake.'s neck; he 
throws her off.} 

Shake. I tell you this woman is not my wife. 
All. Shame, shame ! 

Fal. We may now leave him to the sweets of reconstructed 
matrimony. 

All. Hail ! Shakespeare, the married man ! 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

SCENE.— Courtyard of Boar's Head Tavern. 

(One or two loungers on benches ; Ostlers going to and 
fro; Fal. enters from the tavern } looking glum and 
discontented?) 

Fal. The game doesn't go as merrily as it might. The 
surprise party was a success as far as it went, but Quickly's 
part therein seems to have disgruntled my erstwhile loyal 
ancient. He looks at everything with a parsimonious eye; he 
is suspiciously inquisitive as to my financial prospects, and 
somewhat dubious about my intercourse with his wife. And 
then there is a plot brewing. I hear whispers about returning 
loyalty to Shakespeare. I must be bold and resolute. My 
personal comfort demands better treatment than I am rewarded 
with. There is no other course. That bombastic tyke, Pistol, 
must stand aside. His spouse must be divorced. I must 
again be monarch of all I survey. Francis ! 

Fran, (within). Anon, anon, sir. 

Fal. Bid Mistress Quickly attend me here. 

Enter Mrs. Q. 

Mrs. Q. Pistol says time is precious as money, Sir John. 

Fal. Both were made for slaves, good dame. I have sent 
for thee, sweet Quickly, because I owe thee much. 

Mrs. Q. Forty pounds, Sir John, not counting to-day's 
score. 

Fal. Nay, that follows not, sweet hostess. 

Mrs. Q. Indeed, and it does, Sir John ; Pistol says not a 
cup of sack but must go on the slate. 

Fal. Tush, woman ! I speak not of scores or of sack. On 
nobler themes my thoughts are bent. 

Mrs. Q. Pray God they do not break us, Sir John. 

Fal. Hast thou no poetry in thy soul, dame? Forget thy 
pols and edipols for a while, and listen with ears intent. 

Mrs. Q. La ! Sir John, you frighten me, indeed thou dost. 
'Twas thus you looked and spoke when you were ill of that 

33 



34 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

burning quotidian tertian. Let me call the leech ; do, Sit 
John, there's a good man. 

Fal. Heaven grant me patience ! 

Mrs. Q. Oh, oh, Sir John, thou'rt ill, I am sure ; but I 
hope there's no need of troubling about heaven yet. I am so 
worrited that every part about me is quivering. And it's just 
about the turning o' the tide ! 

Fal. Peace, good woman, peace. Try to understand me. 
I tell thee again, in tones that should carry full conviction, that 
I owe thee much. (Mrs. Q. makes sign of interrupting.') 
Woman, at thy peril interrupt my soliloquy again ! Within 
this wall of flesh, gentle Quickly, there is a soul that counts 
thee her creditor, and with advantage means to pay thy love. 

Mrs. Q. (turning to go). I'll bring the score, Sir John ; 
Pistol said thou must settle when thou hadst means to pay. 

Fal. Great Goliath's grandmother 1 Was ever man crossed 
so before ? I must descend to her level, or these artless digres- 
sions will undo me quite. Mrs. Quickly, hear me for my 
cause, and be silent that thou mayst hear. I love thee, Quickly, 
I love thee. 

Mrs. Q. Oh, Sir John, Sir John ! 

Fal. Not with the faltering, sickly, sentimental affection of 
a purposeless youth, but with the fiery martial ardor of a tried 
and true knight, whose one aim and end shall be to shelter 
thee in his bosom and shield thy shrinking beauty from the 
storms and tempests of this rough world. Mrs. Quickly, 
Helena, Nell ! On my knees I beg thee to listen to the voice 
of my true loving heart. 

(Starts to kneel, but thinks better of it.) 

Mrs. Q. [in confusion). Oh, do not kneel, Sir John; rise, 
I pray you. What if Pistol saw you ? 

Fal. Pistol ! A fig for Pistol. He is a very serpent in 
my way ! I'll grind him to dust beneath my heel ! 

Mrs. Q. Oh, thou honeysuckle villain ! Wouldst thou kill 
my husband ? 

Fal. Ay, twenty such husbands an they stand between me 
and thy sweet love. 

Mrs. Q. Oh, here's bigamy and treason at work ; here's 
foul conspiracy and murder. Help, Pistol, help ! Bring a 
rescue ! 

Fal. Zounds, woman, hold thy peace : thou'lt affright the 
tavern. 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 35 

Mrs. Q. Oh, thou honey-seed rogue, thou man queller and 
woman queller. This comes of nursing a viper ! Pistol ! 
Good Pistol, bring some rescues I 

Enter Nym, Bar. and Pistol. 

Pistol. How now ? Whose mare is dead ? 

(Mrs. Q. falls upon his neck, weeping,) 

Mrs. Q. Oh, Pistol, Pistol ! Am I not thy true and 
wedded wife ? 

Pistol. Ay, as fast as bell, book and candle can make 
thee! 

Mrs. Q. He assails my honor with centurion breath; he 
prates of beggarly divorcement ; he swears he will crush thee 
with his venomous foot. Oh, Pistol, Pistol ! 

Pistol (releasing himself a?id facing Fal. with hand on 
sword). These be humors, indeed ! What ! shall we have 
incisions, shall we imbrue ? 

Fal. {drawing). Away, you scullion ! I'll tickle your 
catastrophe ! 

Pistol {drawing). Ah! Have we not Hiren here ? {Aside 
to Nym and Bar.) Gather round me, lambkins. {They draw 
in his support. ) Down climbing pride to Stygian Tartary. Let 
grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds untwine the sisters three ! 
Come, Atropos, come ! 

Mrs. Q. Alas ! alas ! put up your naked weapons, put up 
your naked weapons ! 

Bar. Strike to his heart ! 

Nym. Slash off his caitiff head ! 

{All three fence with Fal. and drive him out.) 

Pistol {sheathing sword). A rascal bragging slave ! he 
fled from me like quicksilver. 

Mrs. Q. {embracing him). Ah, you valiant little villain ! 

(Fal. appears at door crying, "All hell shall stir for this ! " 
They rush toward him and he flees.) 

Pistol. Let's within, lads, and celebrate this glorious 
victory ! [Exeunt. 

Enter Shake, and Jonson. 

Shake. This tavern has a pleasant seat; the odors nimbly 
and sweetly recommend themselves unto our gentler senses. 



36 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Jonson. The bird of summer, the beer-loving hobo, does 
approve by his loved attendance, that the bottle's breath smells 
wooingly here. Where he most drinks and haunts, I have 
observed, the odors are always delicate. 
Shake. 

Then is he ev'rywhere. All the world's a tavern, 

And all the men and women merely drinkers; 

They have their cocktails and their whiskey straight, 

And one man in his time drinks many quarts, 

His course being seven stages. At first a clear head, 

Sober and steadfast in all good resolves; 

Then the morning bitters, with cherry red 

Or slice of mellow pine, creeping like snail, 

Unwillingly to toil. And then the tippler, 

Sneaking back again, with a woeful story 

Of pains internally. Then a toper, 

Full of strange oaths and loaded to the guard, 

Jealous in potting, eager, and quick to imbibe, 

Seeking the bubbling repetition 

Even at the bottle's mouth. And then the drunkard, 

With grumbling belly with poor liquor lined, 

With eyes bleary and beard for days uncut, 

Foolish in speech and prone to quarreling ; 

And so he swills his part. The sixth stage shifts 

Into the grim and ragged runagate, 

With carbuncles on nose and patch on head, 

His bloated face begrimed, while bar to bar 

He beats his way ; and his big manly voice, 

Unhinged by rum and thirst colossal, pleads 

And whimpers for a drink. Last scene of all, 

That ends this sad and shameful history, 

Is 'beastly sottishness and foul oblivion — 

Sans soul, sans sense, sans hope, sans everything ! 

Jonson. Gracious, Will, what a temperance lecturer 
thou'dst make, an thou swore off and reformed ! 

Shake. True temperance, Ben, is not total abstinence ; it 
uses well the gifts the gods bestow ; it accepts good wine as a 
trusty servant, not as a tyrannic slave- master ; and in that re- 
spect, temperance is man's finest grace and virtue. 

Jonson. Art thou fully reconciled to Sir Toby's plot to put 
down Falstaff? 

Shake. 'Tis meet he had a lesson ; they say he is puff'd 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 37 

up with nis last exploit, and is belording it o'er his fellows. So 
long as the project results in no serious hurt — for I confess I 
love the rogue despite his vanity and bibulous conceit — I am in 
favor of it. 

Jonson. Danger is remote, while the outcome may be 
wholesome in many respects. To hoodwink the watch, we'll 
have to dub the match a test of two rival schools of physical 
culture. 

Shake. Ah ! a practical exposition of the respective merits 
of sack and tobacco in the development of physical man. 

Jonson. Precisely so ; an object lesson of the utmost value 
to the rising generation. 

Shake. But art sure thy man will come to the scratch ? 
'Tis said he is an arrant coward and boaster. 

Jonson. What, Bobadil ! You'd have no doubts if you 
heard him talk. With nineteen men as skilled in the weapon 
as himself, he will undertake to slaughter an army of forty 
thousand men in two hundred days ; that is twenty men each, 
day in and day out, without counting time lost in sleep and 
harmless recreation. 

Shake. Good heavens, Ben ; that makes him a worse fire- 
eater than Falstaff. 

Jonson. You will find him so when you see him at work. 
But how about your man ? I've heard said that he kills noth- 
ing but dead men. 

Shake. That's a base libel. He has been known to engage 
eleven men in buckram at once, alone and single handed, and 
kill seven of them before he was winded. 

Jonson. Then it's pretty near an even match. We'll 
about it at once. Sir Toby has Captain Bobadil in training, 
and he'll be here anon. We must get Falstaff in trim. What 
ho, mine host Pistol ! 

Enter Pistol. 

Shake. Where lies Sir John Falstaff, Pistol ? 

Pistol. In sulphurous pit with fiends grim and damned. 

Shake. That's news indeed. When left he these lodgings ? 

Pistol. My spouse he envied, and forth with flashing 
sword I drove him. Under the ribs I jerked him thrice, and 
thrice I pierced his bread-basket. His quietus he has got. 

Jonson. It seems we are too late, Will. 

Shake. This fellow's bark is always worse than his bite. 
He thrives on extravagant phrases. I warrant Falstaff is safe 



38 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

and sound enough. Hark ye, mine host Pistol ; a word in your 
ear. sirrah ! 

(Pistol approaches and Shake, whispers to him.) 

Pistol. Your wish is law. The braggart vile I'll find and 
fetch him straight. What ho, lambkins, appear ! 

Enter Nym and Bar. 

Jonson. Lambkins ! He meant scarecrows ! 
Pistol. Look that your irons be trim ; work hot and bloody 
lies before us. Attention, lads ! March ! 

{They march out with swords drawn, Pistol leading.) 

Shake. Poor old Jack I He's been up to his old tricks ! 
Wine and women will be his ruin. 

Jonson. In part, thou art to blame for it, Will. What's 
bred in the bone will come out in the flesh. But see where my 
champion comes ! 

Enter Sir T. and Captain Bobadil, the latter smoking a 
cigarette. 

Sir T. Thus far have we marched into the enemy's coun- 
try without impediment, barring hesitation on the part of 
the bold captain's legs. At times I thought he had lo- 
comotor ataxia from smoking this same filthy, roguish tobacco. 

Jonson. He hath a natural hesitancy in his walk, Sir Toby. 
How dost thou, brave captain ? 

Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, never better, Master Jonson. 

Jonson. I would borrow thy ear for a moment. 

(Bob. and Jonson confer apart.) 

Shake. What of the captain, Toby ; will he hold ? 
Sir T. There's not enough blood in his liver to clog the 
foot of a flea. Falstaff will eat him, boots and all. 
Shake. Well, keep his courage at the sticking place. 
Sir T. Never fear me, Master Will. 

Enter Pistol, followed by Nym and Bar. carrying Fal. on a 
stretcher. 

Pistol. Set down the carcase. 

( They put down the stretcher. ) 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 39 

Bob. What, is the brave knight dead ? 

Sir T. (who has been examining the body). No, he's hot- 
scotched, not killed ! 

Pistol. True, Sir Toby ; we found him catching high-balls 
in the tenderloin ; one struck him in the midriff, and over he 
keeled. He'll wake again to-morrow. 

Jonson. To-morrow ! He must wake to-night. Mananas 
were banned by chieftain Macbeth, whose hot-scotch yesterdays 
lighted fools to death. 

Shake. Give him a hypodermic injection of sack. (Bar. 
brings bucket and half-gallon syringe. Sir T. charges the 
syringe and jabs the point into Fal's. arm. Fal. groans 
and sighs.) A few drams more ! 

Sir T. It must be in the other arm, then ; this one will 
hold no more. 

( Operation repeated on the other arm. Fal. raises himself 
to a sitting posture.) 

Fal. Give me a cup of sack ! Bind up my wounds ! Fal- 
staff's himself again ! {Struggles to his feet.) Soft ! Did I 
but dream ? What means this ghastly company ? {Rubs his 
eyes.) I see them still, and on their faces looks that bode no 
good. Avaunt and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide ye ! 
Your bones are marrowless, your blood is cold ; there is no 
speculation in those eyes with which ye glare ! 

Bob. Alas ! poor knight, he is mad ! 

Sir T. He could be touched for the evil. 

Pistol. 'T would be useless, Sir Toby; he never has a 
groat ! 

Jonson. Bi-chloride of gold is the only cure. 

Pistol. Not in this house, Master Jonson ; this is no Keeley 
institute. 

Shake. He wants something to shake his shaking. Give 
him a cup of sack. 

Bar. Yea, a hair of the dog that bit him. 

Bob. {producing tobacco). Try some of this Trinidado, Sir 
John. It's a royal remedy for rabies. It is an antidote 
against sack and aqua vitse. For the expulsion of tremors, 
crudities and obstructions, it has no equal on God's green 
earth. 

Fal. Now, by heaven, my blood begins my safer guides 
to rule. Now do I know ye all ! You and you, sirs (to Shake, 
and Jonson), are miserable, canting ballad-mongers ; you (Jq 



40 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Sir T.) are a common midnight reveler ; you (to Pistol, Nym 
and Bar.) are sneaks and coystrills, detestable slanders of the 
heroic age in which ye live; and you (to Bob.), Sir Lantern- 
jaw, are a hypocritical, lying agent of the American Tobacco 
Trust. 

Shake. Bravo, Sir John ; that is the affront direct. 

Jonson (to Bob.). Give him back the lie ! 

Bob. But he is such a huge man. 

Jonson. Therefore the easier to hit. Zounds, man, 
answer him in kind. 

Bob. Pardon me, Sir John, but you are entirely mistaken. 

Sir T. (prodding him in the ribs). A little more ginger, 
captain. 

Bob. By Hercules, I do hold it, and will hold it before any 
knight in Christendom, that tobacco is the most sovereign and 
precious weed that ever nature tendered to the use of man. 

Fal. And I say you lie, you rogue ! Tobacco is not in it 
with sack. Sack drives all crude and foolish notions from the 
brain, and fills it with nimble, fiery and delectable shapes. It 
warms the blood and reddens the face. It stirs the heart to any 
deed of courage. It is the backbone of all valor, the core of all 
enterprises of pith and moment. In its operations it is twice 
blest; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'Tis 
mightiest in the merriest, and enthrills the throned monarch 
better than his crown. All this and more will I with bright 
sword maintain against any tobacco-smoking knave in Christen- 
dom. 

Shake. Bravo, bravo ! 

Bob. Must I answer him again ? He seems bold with rage. 

Sir T. Ay, challenge him to mortal combat. Never shake, 
man. He'd rather drink than fight. 

Bob. Rude, blustering knight, there I throw my gage. 
(Throws down cigarette box.) If sherris-sack hath left thee so 
much strength as to take up my honor's pawn, then stoop. I 
will make good against thee, arm to arm, what I have spoke, 
or thou canst worse devise. 

(Fal. tries to pick up the box and fails ; Pistol gets it and 
hands it to him.) 

Fal. I have ta'en it up by proxy, but with my own arm, 
good and true, HI prove thee false to manhood, to physical 
development untrue, and a double-dyed traitor to the liquor 
dealers' association. 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 4 1 

Jonson (to Shake.). Only blood can wipe out this defy. 
Shake, (to Pistol). Prepare the lists at once, and herald 
abroad news of the tournament. 

(Stage is prepared. Other characters come in; Fal. is 
made ready by Bar. ; Sir T. acts as second to Bob.) 

Jonson. Good friends, the combat you are about to behold 
will solve for all time the comparative merits of sack and 
tobacco. Here stands Captain Bobadil, the doughty champion 
of the fragrant weed, to prove by his prowess that all the virtues 
that ennoble mankind are the product of tobacco. 

Shake. And here, good friends, standeth Sir John Falstaff, 
the colossal man of war, on pain to be found false and recreant, 
to approve by his courage and skill that tobacco is a filthy, 
noxious weed, and that the world's salvation lies in sherris-sack. 

Pistol. Sound trumpets and set forward combatants ! 

(Bob. and Fal. face each other as the trumpets blare ; they 
feint a while and retreat in confusion.') 

Fal. I cannot fight with such a forked radish ; there's not 
enough of him to hit. 

Bob. The contest is certainly unequal. Why, he turns the 
scales at three hundred and fifty pounds. 

Jonson. There's no help for it now ; the fight must on ! 

Shake. Fear not, Sir John ; you shall do well enough. 

Pistol. He lacketh a cup of sack. No man can fight on a 
dry stomach. 

(Fran, takes wine to Fal.) 

Sir T. Lackest thou anything, captain? Would'st drink 
some tobacco ? 
Bob. Methinks it would be good for my nerves. 

(Sir T. gives him a cigarette, which he lights.') 

Fal. (drinking). Ah ! nectar divine ! great breeder of 
pluck ! 

Bob. (smoking). Ah ! Odor seraphic, grand master of 
brain and heart ! 

Fal. I'll wipe thee from the face of the earth ! 

Sir T. (to Bob.). Have at him with a downright blow. 

(They feint again and retreat in confusion.) 



42 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Fal. I cry appeal ; this contest is contrary to all the ap- 
proved rules of chivalry. 

Jonson. Tut ! man, thou'rt afraid. 

Shake. Patience, Ben \ let's hear the plaint. 

Fal. This forked radish must either come up to my weight, 
or I must get down to his ; otherwise the match is off accord- 
ing to Hoyle. 

Sir T. Now's your time, Bobby lad ; bluff, bluff for all 
thou'rt worth, and the fight is thine. 

Bob. May it please your honors, the knight makes an im- 
possible demand. But there is a way out. Let my dimensions, 
against which the knight protests, be chalked upon his own 
portly person, and let all blows outside those lines be counted 
foul. 

All. Hurrah for Bodadil ! 

Sir T. How say you, Sir John ; do you agree ? 

Fal. It sounds reasonable enough, but I'd rather you'd 
twine his anatomy round the circumference of a beer-barrel 
conforming to my size, and then I'll be at him hammer and 
tongs. 

All. Hurrah for Falstaff ! 

Shake. Leave it to the seconds. 

Jonson. Agreed. 

(Pistol and Sir T. consult ; then Bar. takes the dimensions 
of Bob. and outlines them in chalk on Fal. Fal. and Bob. 
then feint again and retreat as before.) 

Fal. The clock ! I must have the clock. I only fight 
by Shrewsbury clock ! 

{Clock labeled "Shrewsbury" brought forward, and they 
confront each other again.) 

Shake. (Jo Fal.). An thou balk again, I'll have Pistol run 
thee through. 

Sir T. (to Bob.). If thou fallest back again, it will be upon 
the point of my sword. 

(They now fight fiercely, the characters crying " Bravo, 
sack" " Bravo, tobacco i M Bob. 's sword jabs Fal.'s side 
three inches outside the chalk line, and Fal. drops to 
the ground.) 

All. Tobacco wins ! 
Shake. 'Twas a foul, 



FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 43 

Jonson. Not so, Master Shakespeare. The stroke was fair 
and fetching. According to the code adopted, your man is not 
hurt. Bobadil has simply let his wind out. 

Pistol. Then he's done for ; wind was his stock-in-trade ! 

(Fal. staggers to his feet, approaches Shake., and falls.) 

Fal. Thy pardon I crave, Will. This unlooked-for stroke, 
while it ruins my bodily life, clears my spiritual vision. At last 
I see the grievous error of my ways. Serpents, sirens and sack 
have been my downfall. I prithee, Sweet Will, forgive me. 
My breath comes with difficulty ; my heart scarce beats ; my 
eyes grow dim. Call Dame Quickly to me. (Mrs. Q. goes 
and ministers to him.) Ah ! at last I rest on thy bosom, sweet 
Nell. See the buttercups and daisies ! Flowers are my play- 
mates, Nell. There's rosemary for thee ; that's for remem- 
brance. There's pansies (to Pistol) ; that's for thoughts. 

Jonson. Thoughts and remembrance fitted ; a document in 
grief. 

Fal. Put more clothes on my feet, Nell. The sun hides 
its face, and the wind moans sadly in the waving corn. See ! 
there is Heme, the hunter ! Cheerily, cheerily, cheerily sounds 
the horn. The meadows are green and restful. Ah ! the sum- 
mer fields, the — green — green — summer fields ! (Dies.) 

Jonson. Alas, poor Jack ! 

Shake. Farewell, old comrade ! We could have better 
spared a better man ! 

Mrs. Q. Oh, he must not part like this. Poor Sir John. 

Sir T. Don't give up hope ; we may be deceived again. 

Mrs. Q. Yes, yes ! we may all be perceived once more. 
Bring a mirror and a feather, good Pistol. (Pistol gives her a 
large ostrich feather , which she places to Fal.'s mouth.) Dear, 
dear ! It does not stir ! The mirror, Pistol, the mirror ! 
(Pistol gives her a mirror, and she holds it to his lips.) Not 
a breath, not a cipher ! Oh, he is dead and gone, dead and 
gone ! 

Bar. Nil desperandum ! Never say die ! 

Nym. That's the humor of it ! 

Sir T. There's only one more test ; if that fails, he is dead, 
indeed. Bring a cup of sack, Francis ! 

{The wine is brought and Sir T. places the cup to Fal.'s 
lips. Fal, sighs, opens his eyes, seizes the cup arid 
drinks.) 



44 FALSTAFF IN REBELLION 

Shake. Called back by sack ! The rogue will never die 
while there's liquor in England. 

(Fal., meantime, has risen and takes c. of stage.} 

Fal. What ! you thought old Jack was dead ? Never fear 
for me ! Ye cannot kill Falstafif. I'll live forever, if only to 
show that good liquor and a merry heart are the panaceas for 
all the ills that flesh is heir to. Francis, a cup of sack ! you 
rogue ! 

Fran. Anon, anon, sir ! 



CURTAIN 



New Plays 



A PAIR OF CRACKER-JACKS 
A Farce-Comedy in Three Acts 

By Scott Byrnes 

Four males, four females. Costumes modern ; scenery, one interior* 
Plays two hours and a half. An unusually lively and amusing farce for a 
very small cast, easy to produce and effective in performance. All the 
parts are good and the laughs equally distributed. Produced profession- 
ally in 1904 ; professional acting rights reserved. Royalty of ten dollars 
(#10.00) for amateur performance required by the author. 
Pricey 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Jack Cracker, a hard cracker. Mrs. Jack Cracker, Jack's 
Jack Cracker, 2d, a fire- wife. 

cracker. Estelle Clayton, Jack 20"^ 

Junius Brutus Bang, in the fiancee. 

" profesh." Flo. Atkins, Jack's niece. 

Coffee, a colored brother. Katrina Von Hoot, Flo\ 

double. 
SYNOPSIS 
Act I.— Afternoon. Exhortations. 
Act I J. — The same afternoon. Complications, 
Act III. — The same evening. Congratulations. 

THE LITTLE CO-ED 

A Vaudeville Sketch in One Act 

By Hamilton Coleman and Harry Osborne 

One male, who plays three parts, and one female. Costumes modern \ 
scenery an easy interior. Plays twenty-five minutes. A bright and lively 
little sketch originally produced in vaudeville by Yuill and boya. A 
strong piece for a lady, full of points and action. Can be strongly reco«n« 
mended. 

Price j 13 cents 

THE SAME MAN 

A Comedy Sketch in One Act 

By Lida L. Coghlan 
Two female characters. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant. Plays 
twenty minutes. A very clever and effective sketch for two young girls. 
Can be done entirely without stage or scenery or other preparation tban 
mere memorizing and rehearsal. Played rapidly it is a sure success, & 
good bit for an exhibition programme. 

Price % 1$ cents 



New Plays 



THE COLONEL'S MAID 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By C. Leona Dalrymple 

Author of "The Time of His Life" "The Land of Night ?* etc. 

Six males, three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. 
Plays a full evening. An exceptionally bright and amusing comedy, full 
of action ; all the parts good. Capital Chinese low comedy part ; two 
first-class old men. This is a very exceptional piece and can be strongly 
recommended. Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Colonel Robert Rudd, a widower of ) 

North Carolina \ . ,, . . ,. 

Colonel Richard Byrd, a widower] mortally antagonistic. 

of South Carolina J 

Bob Rudd l no * so an t a gonistic as their respective fathers. 

Mrs. J. John Carroll, a widow, and Colonel Rudd' s sister- 
in-law. 
Julia Carroll, her daughter. 

Ned Graydon, a young gentleman of exceedingly faulty memory. 
Mr. James Baskom, Colonel Rudd's lawyer. 
Ching-ah-ling, the Chinese cook, a bit impertinent but by far the 
most important individual in the cast. 
SYNOPSIS 
Act I. — Early morning in the kitchen of the Rudd bachelor 
establishment. 

Act II. — The Rudd library, five days later. 
Act III. — The same. Evening of the same day. 

breaking the engagement 

A Farce in One Act 

By W. C. Parker 

Two males, one female. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. Play* 

twenty minutes A quick playing little piece suitable for vaudeville U9e. 

Very bright and snappy and strongly recommended. 

Price, 15 cents 

A PAPER MATCH 

A Farce in One Act 
By E. W. Burt, M. D. 

Two males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. Plays 
thirty-five minutes. Four rustic characters, all good. The heroine ad- 
vertises for a husband and gets her aunt's old beau to their mutual horror. 
Very funny, easy and effective. Price, ij cents 



New Plays 



THE COLLEGE CHAP 

A Comedy-Drama in Three Acts 
By Harry L. Newton and John Pierre Roche 

Eleven males, seven females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two inte- 
riors. Plays two and a half hours. An admirable play for amateurs. Ab- 
solutely American in spirit and up-to-date ; full of sympathetic interest 
but plenty of comedy ; lots of healthy sentiment, but nothing " mushy." 
Just the thing for high schools ; sane, effective, and not difficult. 

Price, 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 
Elijah Gooding, a village product. 
Seth Hines, just as tired. 
Art Wimpel, chief clerk, Occidental Hotel. 
Samuel Crane, proprietor of the Occidental Hotel. 
Starr Clay , promoter of Jay 1. C Trolley Line. 
Bart Eaton, factotum of the "Clarion" 
John Drew Irving, advance agent and drummer. 
Will Sellum, a traveling salesman. 
Bill, a bell-boy. 
George, another. 
Dave Crane, the college chap. 
Sallie Crane, in love with Art. 
Mrs. Jane Crane, the mother. 
Madge Clay, the girl. 
Gertie Flye, the news stand girl. 
Mrs. Mortimer Jones-Brown, a progressive woman. 
Mrs. Heziah Jenks, of the Chester Culture Club. 
Miss Margaret Seymour, secretary of Chester Culture Club. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I.— Office of the Occidental Hotel. 

Act II. — Office of the Chester Clarion, six months later. 

Act III.— Office of the Occidental Hotel, eight months later. 

A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

A Farce in One Act 
By J. M. Taylor 
Six males, one female ;>the latter can be played by a man. Costumes, 
modern ; scene, an interior. Plays thirty minutes. A college farce, very 
swift and snappy. Recommended. Price t ij cents. 

SPECIAL DELIVERY 

A Farce in One Act 
By D. M. Henderson 
Three males, two females. Costumes modern ; scenery, one interior. 
Plays twenty minutes. A brisk and snappy little farce, easy and amusing. 
Suited for any use. /W«, /J cents 



New Plays 



HOW JIM MADE GOOD 

A Comedy-Drama in Four Acts 
By Charles S. Bird 
Seven males, three females ; two male parts can be doubled. Costumes, 
modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays two hours. An unusually sym- 
pathetic play, well suited to amateurs. Clean and easy to get up. Recom< 
mended to high schools. All the parts are good. 

Price, pj cents 

CHARACTERS 
(As originally produced December g, ip/o, in the Opera House \ 

Natrona, Pa., for the benefit of the Ladies Industrial So-. 

ciety of the Natrona Presbyterian Church.} 
Eben Lovejoy, of Hillside farm . . . . C. S. Bird, 
Jim Jones, a farm hand; good as gold . . Edward Lemon. 
Walter Wayne, the new schoolmaster . . . Roy Cook. 

Steve Hammond, a ne er-do-well ; Eben s nephew . Edward Dean. 
Si Staples, landlord of the Hillside Hotel . , Jacob Carr. 
Tabez Elder, a member of the schoolboard ) n T ,. 

A Tramp, who makes geo3 . . . \ Thomas Lardtn 
Mrs. Lovejoy, Eben s wife, who believes in Jim . Agnes Bird 
Lucy Lovejoy, her daughter, whom you can t help 

loving Mabel Sneb old 

Cora Harlow, the Lovejoys "help" ; a born tease. Mary Larson 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Sitting-room at Hillside Farm. 
Act II. — The Lovejoys' Kitchen. 
Act III.— Office of the Hillside Hotel. 
Act IV.— Same as Act I. 

ALL ABOUT ADAM 

A Comedy in Two Acts 

By Alice C. Tho7npson 

One male, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. 

Plays one hour. A very easy and effective play of that much wanted 

class that calls for more women than men. Just a sweet, clean little play 

Suited to any one that wants something nice and wholesome. 

Price, 75 cents 

an alarm of fire 

A Farce in One Act 

By H. S. Griffith 

Three males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior. 

Plays thirty minutes. A capital little piece narrating the incidents of an 

interrupted proposal. All parts good ; one very effective stuttering char* 

acter, Clean, bright and amusing. Can be recommended for schools. 

Price, jj cents 



fl. m. Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 0e its €acb 



A/lin PHANNFI Play in Four Acts, Six males, five females. 
lYllLJ-\*ri.r\llliI-iLi Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. 
Plays two and a half hours. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH 2S?*»$K 

males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. 
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THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY §#" *3£, A & 

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CWFFT I A VFNHFR Comedy in Three Acts. Seven males, 
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THF TIMFS Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
* ***-« 1 IIYIEiO Scene, a single interior ; costumes, modern. Plays 
a full evening. 

THF WFAKTR ^FY Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, 
I flEi YY £i/\IV£iI\ OEiA eight females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ggS*L£i££&£52: 

Costumes, modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 



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A^ Yftll f IKT IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four 
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C AMU IF I )rama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 
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INfiOMAR Pl av in Five Acts - Thirteen males, three females. 
InuVlTlAIV Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 

MARY STUART Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
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